Our Story
by TheSapphireSky
Summary: Three moments, frozen in time.


**AN: Sappy, fluffy little ficlet based on the song 'Hundred More Years' by Francesca Battistelli. Been meaning to write up something about this song for a while and thought it would make a good story to end 2015 with. May all your 2016s be amazing and so blessed! :)**

* * *

 **A diamond ring and twelve red roses… Everything she ever wanted... All those dreams and now they're finally here**

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, caressing Molly's face and slowly bringing her out of her slumber. Opening her eyes, Molly turned over and smiled at the sight of Sherlock next to her, his curls mussed against the pillow. Unable to help herself, she reached out to brush the curls from his face.

As she did so, the light glinted off the diamond ring on her finger and her heart skipped a beat. Complete joy filled her as the memories from the evening before came back to her; meeting Sherlock for their usual post-case dinner at Angelo's and finding the restaurant empty of anyone else but Sherlock and lit by candlelight, the bouquet of crimson roses on the table complemented by one yellow, one peach, and one pink, the feeling of disbelief as he slid to one knee in front of her and held out a ring.

 _Molly Hooper, I realize this overly cliche display is very much out of my character. But if anyone deserves the perfect romantic proposal, it is you. You've showed me that sentiment, caring, is not a weakness, but the greatest strength a person can possess. I never thought I would want or need a girlfriend, or a wife. But I need you. Until recently I was content, even happy, with our romantic arrangement. But now I find it lacking, insufficient. And I have come to the conclusion that, based on the evidence of my love for you, your reciprocating love, and the fact that I cannot imagine my future without you by my side, it would be the next logical step for us to marry. So... Molly Hooper, will you accept me as your husband?_

The rest of the evening was like a dream. After she had hauled him to his feet and kissed him with unrivaled enthusiasm, they had eaten Angelo's specially-prepared meal while exchanging sweet kisses that became increasingly sensual before hastily retiring to Baker Street for the remainder of the night.

Molly blushed and giggled at the memory. The sound woke Sherlock, who scrunched his brow and groaned as he blinked awake.

'Morning,' Molly murmured, her voice husky from sleep.

He looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. 'Morning... my future Mrs. Holmes.'

'Mmm, I quite like the sound of that,' Molly purred and scooted closer. His arms came around her and pulled her against his lean form. She danced her fingers across his bare chest.

'I do too,' he grumbled, trailing kisses along her jaw, before pulling back to give her a wicked grin. 'But there's one sound I like better.'

'Oh? And what sound is that?'

Molly gasped as Sherlock suddenly rolled them over, trapping her beneath him. He bent his head down, his lips barely brushing hers, and she tilted her head up expectantly, her eyes closed.

Suddenly, he moved his hands down to her bare waist and danced his fingers lightly over the sensitive flesh. Molly's eyes flew open and she shrieked, dissolving into helpless laughter as her fiance relentlessly tickled her.

Sherlock beamed, his heart overflowing as her unfettered laughter rang through their bedroom.

* * *

 **The future looks so beautiful and bright… They can dance under the moonlight... 'Cause God is smiling down on them tonight**

 **And she wants to stay right here and make it last for a hundred more years**

Taking a deep breath, Molly opened the bathroom door and slipped into the bedroom, brushing down the front of her gown and nervously pulling her now-unbound hair over her shoulder. Sitting on the bed, his back to her, Sherlock was undoing his cufflinks, his suit jacket slung over a nearby chair.

She gently cleared her throat.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder and his face blanked. Molly blushed and looked down, twisting her hands together.

Why was she so nervous? They'd been living together for almost a year and she'd long ago stopped being so self-conscious in his presence.

Suddenly, a pair of polished black shoes appeared in front of her and she slowly raised her gaze. Sherlock stared down at her, desire written on his face.

'You are beautiful,' he whispered, cupping the back of her neck and bending down to kiss her tenderly. Molly steadied herself by gripping his arms and gradually sunk into the kiss.

Breaking apart, Sherlock pulled her against his chest and rested his chin atop her head. She wrapped her arms around his torso and tried to steady herself, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

'My wife,' he murmured, almost disbelievingly, and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Molly smiled and pulled back, slipping her arms up around his neck.

'My husband.' She sighed happily, her nervousness forgotten.

Sherlock began to sway slightly, shifting from foot to foot. The skirt of Molly's white gown made a soft _swish_ as it brushed the floor. Slowly, their movements became larger until Sherlock was leading them in a gentle waltz about their room, an unheard melody playing in their hearts.

And when Sherlock grinned mischievously and dipped her back, her hair brushing the floor as she giggled, Molly couldn't stop herself from wishing that this moment would last forever.

* * *

 **She's got brown eyes just like her mother… Three years old, he's crazy for her... He wants to freeze this day before it disappears**

Molly was at work for the day and had left Sherlock with their charge, who was currently napping. Or at least, she was supposed to be.

Halfway through his experiment at the kitchen table, Sherlock hastily scribbled his findings in his notebook and was about to turn back to his microscope when there was a tugging on his trouser leg.

Looking down, he bit back a smile. A wide-awake Georgina was staring up at him, her hands gripping the fabric of his trousers, and a toothy smile on her cherubic face. 'Up, Papa! Up!'

His experiment completely forgotten, Sherlock bent down and scooped up his daughter, tossing her gently in the air, then catching her against his chest. She shrieked excitedly, her gurgling baby giggles melting his heart.

Staring down at her, he marveled at the evidence of his genetics mixed with Molly's, the tangible proof of their love. Her hair was a pale strawberry blonde, much like his had been as a child, and fell around her face in soft curls. Already, though, he could tell that her locks were darkening and, in all likelihood, would become a reddish brown like her mother's.

But her hair was the only thing he saw in her that was from him. The rest was Molly, from the wide, ready smile to the large, brown doe eyes. All Georgina had to do was look at him with those eyes and Sherlock would cave. He had been terrified when Molly told him she was expecting and he'd spent the next nine months oscillating between panicking and babyproofing as much of his London as he could. Mycroft finally stepped in when he found Sherlock adding baby proofed locks to Mycroft's home kitchen.

But, to everyone's surprise, apart from Molly, Sherlock had taken to fatherhood like a duck to water. The moment his daughter's tiny hand had wrapped around his little finger in the delivery room, she had wrapped herself around his heart. There was an entire wing of his Mind Palace built just for her.

'What can I do for you, little lady?' Sherlock inquired with mock seriousness. Georgina wriggled her legs and he set her down, following her into the lounge. She toddled over to Molly's iPod dock and then looked up at him, slapping her hand against the radio.

Sherlock beamed down at her. 'Would you like to listen to music?'

Georgina nodded her head eagerly. 'Papa's music!'

His heart skipped a beat in his chest. Reaching down, he scrolled through Molly's numerous pop playlists until he came to one marked 'Our Wedding' and pressed play.

Strains of his violin filled the room.

Georgina clapped happily and spun in place. Sherlock watched fondly as she bounced and twirled to the music, trying to keep the lump from his throat. All too soon, she would be grown and these days would be gone.

Lunging forward, Sherlock swept her up mid-twirl. Georgina giggled and braced her arms against her father's chest as he danced around the room, dipping her back every once in awhile. His heart lightened at every smile and each bubbly giggle she let out.

The song was coming to an end and he held her tight, her face resting in the crook of his neck. 'I love you,' he murmured and pressed his lips against her soft curls.

Georgina wrapped her arms around his neck. 'I love you, too, Papa.'


End file.
